


drowning lessons

by vacationer



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullets Era, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-15 03:46:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14151240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vacationer/pseuds/vacationer
Summary: This is no way to meet someone.(Suicide TW)





	drowning lessons

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, I wrote this one when I was in a really bad place myself, so this was written from my own feelings. I'm not trying to glorify or romanticize suicide, but merely project to cope. It's pretty sad, but please enjoy.

  
"Fuck," Frank says, feeling more angry tears slip down his cheeks and chill in the cold wind. " _fuck_ ," he says again, sliding a hand down his face, hating himself for forgetting his headphones at home. He wonders if his mom even knows he left. He wonders if his dad is home yet.    
  
It's only twelve on a Friday, but there's no cars out. It's suburbia, housewives are in bed, teenagers are sneaking around, and drunks are stuck at a bar until morning. He thinks about the lives of everyone else on this street, and just fucking pities himself.  The cold air picks up, and the river under Maple and 123rd really isn't fucking helping. He's only wearing a hoodie.    
  
Walking is mindless, as he leaves the neighborhood and follows the street's he's never taken. A few cars drive down the highway past the bridge, but he sees one veer off and onto it. It's not exactly the best driving he's seen, the car swerving and rocks skidding under the tires. He waits for the it to pass him, heading home, but it doesn't.  The car comes to a shrieking halt, a tire bumped up on the curb, the headlights still on as the driver frantically gets out of it, and suddenly, Frank is worried.    
  
He doesn't know if he should be scared for himself or for them, but his question is quickly answered when the figure grips onto onto the weathered metal of the bridge, and shakily lifts themself to stand on the rail. Of course, some stupid other depressed motherfucker is looking for some escape from their trash life in this little trash town.   
  
Frank fucking _runs_.    
  
Sure, it's hypocritical to stop someone from jumping off a bridge, but that's not going to stop him. "Wait!" He calls, lungs not getting the chance to burn as he sprints, not really knowing if calling out was the best idea. "Wait," He says a little weaker, as he approaches the person.    
  
The person, who looks to be a boy about Frank's age, is staring at him with the biggest eyes he's ever seen. They're filled with tears, which his face is wet with. Tears and fear. Frank's heart is pounding in his chest as the boy pulls one leg over the other side of the rail, eyes shut tight.    
  
For a moment, he's sure he's going to see someone commit tonight, and he's terrified he won't be able to live with himself afterwards. "Please," he mutters, taking a wary step closer, and the boy just pulls his other leg over, sitting down on the bar, facing the rapid water. "don't."   
  
The kids still crying, as he shakes his head quickly, one hand gripping a support next to him, the other covering his mouth as he tries to quiet himself.    
  
Frank's fucking torn. He's not going to call the police, but he can't stand and watch it happen. He's so close. If Frank turned his back, he'd do it. He knows he would. "That water is only going to freeze you to death," Frank says, soft and unsure. "that's not going to kill you the way you want it to."   
  
The moonlight is so beautiful it's ironic. The November air makes it brighter, and makes this guys skin glow. His hair is inky, messy, and blowing in the breeze. The dark of his hoodie fades into the shadow, away from the moon on his back. Frank  doesn't think he could pull him over. He can't do anything at this point other than  _talk_ to him. "What's your name?" Frank asks, quietly. The river is rushing, overpowering his tone, but the kid seems to hear him.    
  
"Gerard." His voice is broken, and wet. It makes Frank's chest ache.    
  
"I'm Frank," he feels like he's holding his own breath. "how old are you?"    
  
"Nineteen." Gerard won't look at him. "You're going to try to talk me out of this. Can you just go, please?" Frank can practically hear the painful knot in Gerard's throat as he speaks.    
  
Frank almost feels bad. He understands. He'd be pissed off and frustrated if someone tried to intervene. "I can't."    
  
Gerard begins to cry again. Frank's running out of time.     
  
"You..." He's trying to figure out what to say without sounding like some pamphlet you'd get from a school counselor. "This is a really permanent option. I'm sure you have reasons to..." he's trying to avoid 'not kill yourself' and 'live', because they're both things he would  _hate_ hearing if he were the one ready to jump off a bridge. "keep going." He takes a deep breath and meets Gerard's eyes briefly. "What do you like to do?" Might as well keep him talking.   
  
"Why the fuck do you care?" Gerard snaps at him, and he almost takes it personally. Frank's _trying_. "I don't do much of anything," his words are vapid, and sad. "please. I'm begging you, _go._ "   
  
"Gerard," he says. "what do you like to do?" he presses.    
  
There's a long moment of nothing, but he's shocked when Gerard replies. "Art."   
  
It's something, at least. "What kind of art?" Frank asks. 

Gerard shakes his head, sighing. "Garbage art."  
  
It makes Frank want to laugh. "Listen," Frank offers. "I'll take you to Blick's or Michael's  _first thing_  tomorrow if you come back over, okay?" Gerard doesn't reply. He feels sick.    
  
"Do your parents know you're out?" He tries, immediately regretting his decision. He figures if this guy is gonna jump, he doesn't have great parents, parents that don't worry why he left the house in a rush, in the middle of the night.    
  
"Fuck no," Gerard tells him, and Frank notices he's shaking.    
  
"Do you have a sister?"   
  
No reply.    
  
"A brother?"   
  
Gerard nods, just slightly, and Frank can see him bite his lip, pale profile glowing in the moonlight.    
  
"Does he know where you are?" Frank asks, taking another step closer. This might be it.    
  
Gerard shakes his head, tears streaming steadily down his face again. "I left a note."   
  
Oh God. Frank's chest aches. "He's probably really worried right now," he can't tell if he's guilting Gerard, or helping him. "are you guys close?"   
  
"Yes," he sobs out shakily.    
  
"He's probably waiting for you at home, Gerard. Do you think he found the note by now?"    
  
Another shake of his head, and he scoots back on the bar. Hope sparks in Frank, muted by the dull ache of utter heartbreak.    
  
"He's waiting for you." Frank repeats. "He needs you, and he's waiting for you at home. I bet he loves you a lot. I'll get you there, okay? I'll drive you home." Frank offers, and Gerard finally meets his eyes, lip bitten bloody, he nods.    
  
Frank sighs, cold air filling his lungs as he follows with a deep breath, holding out his hand for Gerard to hold onto as he slowly climbs back over the rail. His sneakers make a heavy sound on the ground. He's easily a few inches taller than him, but who isn't. He looks at Frank, with his big dark eyes, and falls into his arms, shaking. 


End file.
